


the beginning is the end is the beginning

by sultrygoblin



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: F/M, Heavy BDSM, M/M, Mild Blood, Mild Smut, Unhealthy Relationships, unhealthy bdsm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23289343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sultrygoblin/pseuds/sultrygoblin
Summary: one shot - request - you both knew it was going to happen. you just wish it could’ve been a little longer.
Relationships: Roman Sionis/Victor Zsasz, Victor Zsasz/Original Female Character
Kudos: 18





	the beginning is the end is the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> "Hi ! I saw your requests were open so I was wondering if you could do BOP!Victor Zsasz x female!reader please ?" -  
> so i don’t really know what this is. i know i like it. i know it’s definitely a bit darker and more mature than my stuff. which could be a trend. also you can’t convince me victor ISN’T in love with roman. well thanks for the requests guys. i hope you like.

_The sewers belch me up  
The heavens spit me out  
From Ether's tragic I am born again _

When they met, it was the beginning of the end. He made a special place on his body, just for her. It had been decided it an instant, when she looked over at him with something more akin to intrigue than fear. And he couldn't have that. It didn't work that way, it wasn't supposed to at least. He'd find that would change much sooner than he expected. Roman kept him well enough distracted, he was a busy dog for his master and his mind was filled with glee and many things much darker than that. It's the sound of heels that change it all, a click clack that makes every muscle in his body tense. He knows the noise, he heard it once before, stepping into that interview with Roman. Here it is once again and he can almost feel her blood against his skin as the world flashes red. This is why she was here though, to quell the familiar urge deep inside himself.

“Hello,” she calls into the darkened club, stepping slowly, deliberately, “Roman?”

He chuckles, darkly, meant to scare her as he slams the door closed. She doesn't jump. Why doesn't she jump? She knows who he is, what he is, and here she is. Trapped in a dark room with him. Any normal person would be itching in their skin and instead she turns, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness he had already made himself comfortable in.

“Hello, Victor,” there's an elegance to her voice, not the high society tone of his master but one that gave the impression she had practiced the lines over and over, waiting for her moment on stage, “Have I been fired already?” she seems more put out than upset at the thought. As if her performance could have been better.

“Not yet,” He growls, grabbing her in the pitch black, yanking her close, “ _Not yet,_ ” the tip of his blade traveling along the curve of her cheek.

Her body shudders, but not in the way he expects, and the sweat that breaks across her skin has a tang to it but not scared. No, no, no. This was something else.

“And when I am?” she gasps, nails digging holes into the thin material of her dresses skirt.

It hits him in that moment, because the smell isn't coming from her sweat. No that's a different perfume that's somehow sweet and spicy. This tang comes from somewhere lower, from an urge much darker. A thousand ideas flash before his eyes, instead he digs his teeth into her skin. Hard, clamping tight until the taste of rust and adrenaline floods his mouth. She screams, somewhere between agony and orgasm, his knees wobble at the thought. He wants to tear, to yank the chunk from her neck, but Roman won't let him, not yet. And he hasn't finished his fun. Releasing her comes with it's own pain and she grunts in her throat, breath ragged.

“I'll make it good for both of us,” pushing her away from him hard.

It's time to go and she knows that, slipping at the closed door into the lobby. It leaves him in the dark with pants inexplicably tight and new kind of urge. A secret even. He waits a reasonable amount of time before making his own exit, he'll be done soon and they have a few meetings. He makes it to the car just as his master opens the door, himself, which is the first thing that hits his ears. He doesn't notice the blood that Victor is sure must still be in the cracks of his teeth because he can't stop tasting her.

_And now I'm with you now  
Inside your world of wow  
To move in desires made of deadly pretends  
Till the end times begin _

It's Monday, the first Monday where he has nothing to do except follow Roman around like the obedient dog he is. And that meant seeing her in the light of day since their first dark dalliance. He already feels the Pavlovian response to the click-clack-click of her heels. A grip on his knife, the taste in his mouth, and a twitch in his trousers. He almost physically drools seeing the scabbed over shape of his maw, not hidden as he had expected, but open and exposed as he had begrudgingly hoped.

“What happened here?” Roman waves at it with a dismissive, gloved hand.

The smirk grows from behind his shoulder, ready to watch her crumble. She doesn't. She rolls her eyes and smiles, “Someone may have gotten a little _eager_ ,” she smirks.

He hates her, wanting to run across the room and plunge the blade into her over and over again. It quickly becomes a different image, no longer the knife that plunges into her over and over again. He wants to be anywhere but here and yet not. He knows how this will end, the same way it always does. It's new that she seems in on the game, not trying to fill herself with the lie that somehow she would be the exception, somehow she was special. And she wasn't, not to Roman Beauvais Sionis, but maybe-

“Well, aren't you just a spitfire,” and that was the last word spoken on that subject in the house that day.

The two of them wander off to talk about zoning permits for expansion and the grittier underground of wanting to get anything done in Gotham. She doesn't look at him and he's very sure that since that moment she hasn't thought of him. Sometimes she winces when her neck stretches to beautifully taut but it seems to be more a nuisance than leading to any real thought about where it had come from and why it hurt so deeply. They talk late into the night, her jacket hung on the back of a chair, sleeves pushed up as they finish going over maps.

“You're looking at about a month to get approved through normal channels,” it's that line she toes between professionalism and criminal, the reason she and her clients both sign NDAs, that part of her that's much too clever for her own good.

“I'm sure Victor can sort something out,” beckoning the man forward, it's his time to shine and he follows the order as he does every other one, “Tomorrow. For now, I think you should take our lovely guest home. We wouldn't want the city to swallow her up now, would we?”

It's all so fake as they exchange smiles and cheek-to-cheek air kisses. It's not Roman and he's coming to learn it's not her. They travel down the stairs quietly, out the door and into the car. She offers up her address and sets her gaze firmly out the window.

He wants this, he wants her silent, but he knows she isn't stewing in her fear as he wants so much. She's lost herself in something else. The same thing that made her scream in his arms. He wants to pull the car over, grab the back of her head, and see if maybe he could scare her. If he could cut her, choke her, something to tint her scent with fear. But it seems unlikely, right now at least. He doesn't know her well enough yet. He only pulls over outside the brownstone, he doesn't say anything as she climbs out of the car, and heading up the first set of steps and down the stairs to the right. Victor just watches, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth.

He's going to enjoy trying.

_Is it bright where you are  
Have the people changed  
Does it make you happy you're so strange  
And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame  
You can watch the world devoured in it's pain  
Strange _

He likes to watch her, he didn't think he would. It seems like so many steps backwards from psychopathic sexual sadist but she was around less than he had hoped for. Not that he would admit he hoped for it. And when she was, typically she was locked in conversations late into the night with her employer and silently driven home by him. Each drive giving way to more and more depraved things he could make her do. The canvas he could turn her pretty skin into. Tonight, sitting next to him in the most casual clothes he'd seen her in ever, he doesn't go right when they reach the end of the block, swinging a left instead.

She glances at him, a raised brow, but he keeps his gaze forward, speeding down the street and swinging a hard right. When he could no longer feel her gaze, he let his eyes slip to her, just for a second. Her eyes forward, ever so slightly hooded, biting her bottom lip, fists clenching the peasant skirt tightly. It's familiar, it's an effect, and Victor loves to cause an effect. Too the edge of the city, he can hear her breath, that scent hitting his nostrils and he salivates. What could he make her do? He finds out quickly, pulling off the road down a dirt path and to the edge of a cliff. The edge of the world.

“Get out,” He growls, throwing himself out of the car and hurrying to the other side, grabbing her hard by her bicep as she mad her own mad scramble from the metal cage, “What are you?” shouting as he throws her to the ground.

She can't be real or if she is, she's something dark. Some trick or spy, something. Some logical reason she would make his spine tingle and crave the taste of her in his mouth again.

“Something like you, I guess,” she answers, she doesn't breath anymore, no, she pants, “But different.”

It makes sense, he hates it makes sense. Hate that it sounds like she's made for him because maybe she is.

_Climb my ribcage to  
The replays run for you  
Unhook my lights to peek behind the flash _

It's almost an hour they sit there in silence, staring at each other with the night sky and Gotham's lights behind them. In some sort of limbo only they had been allowed to enter. She's there, attainable, she wants him to touch her, to hurt her, she's all but begging for it. She knows what he is and she seems to want him all the same. In a Roman never could, or maybe simply wouldn't. It's a strange new sensation, to be wanted on so base a level. He steps towards, she doesn't move, waiting for him to reach down and pull her up same as he had before. Victor doesn't disappoint.

“I don't know what you're expecting-”

“Nothing.”

He yanks her by her hair this time, less kissing and more smashing their lips together in a sensation quite similar to ownership. His tongue thrusting into her mouth with a lewd sliding sound and a bit too much saliva, crushing her against him as he walked her backwards till her ass hit the hood of the car. There's no going back with her crushed between the warm metal and his immovable self. She wouldn't want to. He yanks at her bottom lip, splitting her lip before his tongue traced a line down over her chin to the hollow of her throat. Something sharp and cold pokes into her ribs, she should think of that, but she's distracted by something warm and hard pressing at the valley where her thighs are still pressed together.

It's a flurry of hands and clothes. Heat, sweat, and all manner of new tastes until his thrusting into her from behind, her back arched as she tries to ride her first orgasm while not pressing her neck to hard into the blade held lengthwise along her neck. She's made sounds he couldn't imagine, not scared, the exact opposite, a feeling he knows well. It will live in the pit of his stomach as long as she's still alive.

_For I am crystal chrome  
I am shatter dome  
I am Kremlin king of angels avenged  
To destroy the end _

She goes to climb from the car, same as she had every ride before. But things were different, she was his now. He grabs her by the back of the head, making sure to tug hard, she falls backwards, head thrown back over his shoulder. It's just as sloppy, just as rough, and forces her body into even more uncomfortable positions that he's sure he could make her hold on her own with some practice and positive reinforcement.

“Tomorrow,” he grunts, pushing her from him but flashing her that metal smile all the same, “Rain or shine.”

She nods, flashing her own smile, red spider webbed between the cracks of her teeth. Fucking beautiful if he ever saw it. He speeds off, trying to come up with some explanation for what had taken so long because he couldn't just tell him. That would ruin- it would be bad. Just bad. He still doesn't have an answer when he makes it up the stairs, he hopes to find all the lights off and then he could slink to his room. He could think of what he could do tomorrow. He'd have more time, more space. It distracts him and he's pulled out by his masters ever familiar intake of breath.

“Oh, Victor, what did you do?” he screws his face up not sure what he's talking about, “She's very expensive, you know? You couldn't wait till after we'd finished?” looking like a child who'd just had his toy taken away and was looking for an explanation.

It dawns on him he wasn't the only one to leave marks. Teeth, nails, she hadn't been a rag doll for him. Just complacent, “It's not like that, I promise,” trying to reassure him before he has the chance to ask another question.

“Then what was it like?”

Unimaginable. But he can't say that. There really isn't a good answer, instead he looks at his feet and shrugs, caught with both hands in the cookie jar. He hears a humph and is ordered off to his room, which is somehow terrifying. A tantrum would at least tell him what he needed to know. But silence, Roman was not a man known for keeping it inside. It's a tug-o-war in his mind all night; his loyalty to his master and the excitement of her. Back and forth until he managed to doze off into a fitful sleep that didn't help and instead made everything much more vivid with the ingenious powers of his subconscious.

_Is it bright where you are  
Have the people changed  
Does it make you happy you're so strange  
And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame  
You can watch the world devoured in it's pain _

The next month is a whirlwind for them all, there aren't enough hours in a day. But they make time, if only to release their ache. Sometimes for hours, sometimes in hidden, dark alcoves where they were almost always two steps away from being caught. Roman says nothing, to either of them, but there's a curtness between him and the woman that hadn't existed before. As if she had confirmed his idea that at some point, all women became sluts. Victor liked to believe choosing him had something to do with it but he knows it isn't true, when he realizes this fact he used her until her legs could barely carry her weight and his hips left ugly bruises between her thighs.

He hurts her and she begs him for it, for more. The night they open the club, she steps up behind him and her tone begs for him. He takes her outback, the stone reopening old wounds and scratching new surface wounds. Watching her lick his blood from her lips, eyes rolling back into her head as her body began to lock with the peak of her pleasure, he decides he'll ask if they can keep her. Maybe she'll let him, waiting for him to return every day, making a life around him just as he had around Roman.

“Tomorrow?” she asks when they're done, adjusting her dress back into place and smiling at him with swollen lips.

He nods, excited and hungry, watching her like a starving man as she sauntered back inside. He doesn't see her for the rest of the night but he'll be rewarded with her in the morning and that's what matters. He'll tell her what he wants, what happens next, and then he'll take her. Tight, close, promising to take such good care of her no matter how bad her hurt her.

_The zeppelins rain upon us  
The guns of love disastrous  
A shadow lies amongst you  
To defy the future cast _

Any other day she'd look so beautiful, tied to a chair, mouth bleeding, sweat making her t-shirt cling tightly and leave nothing to the imagination. It's Pavlovian, he almost steps forward, almost calls her dirty girl, almost sings to beg him. But Roman is standing behind her with a stern look on his face and she doesn't seem happy. She isn't fearful. Or sad. She seems simply dejected, as if she had hoped to put off this inevitable end just a little while longer.

“Say hello, darling,” grabbing her hair hard and tight at the back of her head.

Victor remembers moans, instead she hisses and winces, “Hello, _darling_ ,” the slap echoes, she jumps but there is no noise. He seems disappointed.

“I might have let you keep her,” moving her head harshly and awkwardly side to side, as if her were examining a prized hog. It makes his blood boil, if only because he was the one who did that. And she liked it, her face didn't fill with disgust like it did here, “If you had been keeping up on your duties,” he clicked his tongue shamefully at is henchman, “It's your own fault you know.”

“I know,” he nods, pulling the knife swiftly from his pocket, much to the glee of his boss.

“I'll leave you two alone, then, a private good bye,” said as simply as if he were offering to get them a few more blankets as he backed out of the living room into her adjoined kitchen.

She smiles at him, “He hits like a girl.”

He doesn't think, just slaps her across the face with the back of his hand, this one comes with a groan. It's the right sound and he can feel every muscle relax at the sound. He slides the blade between the ropes and yanks, even as they fall she doesn't make a run for it. She doesn't even stand, just looks up at him through ever familiar hooded eyes.

“You said you'd make it feel good.”

_Is it bright where you are  
Have the people changed  
Does it make you happy you're so strange  
And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame  
You can watch the world devoured in it's pain  
Strange  
Strange _

He's soft. Gentle. Slow. All the things neither can imagine from the other. No regard for their lack of privacy or what comes next. He remembers her first peak but he'll never forget her second, when he slid the blade easily between two ribs. If she feels it, she doesn't notice, she will soon. He doesn't have much time.

“Your turn,” he gasps, curling her fingers around the handle and his own hands around hers, “I've got a special place for you.”

The knife digging into the flesh over his heart sends him tumbling, watching her smile. Eyes droop, breath leave. By the time he's on his feet and put away she's gone. Just a corpse.

“It'll have to do,” he hears Roman.

There's something different now, some nagging thought at the back of his mind.

“I think I'm gonna miss her.”


End file.
